After selling our house and buying a new one, we moved into the East end of the city, away from the outskirts we've called home for the past 5 years. We now live in a neighbourhood full of people who go outside. People with dogs and kids, fire pits and BBQs. For the longest time, I felt isolated in our old neighbourhood. KJ never understood that because he got to go away and do things, and see things. He never really got it until we moved and saw a change in the amount of activity around us, I think.
I loved the place, don't get me wrong, but something was missing. I often felt like the sole member of the Neighbourhood Watch because people were always away. I was on the call list for pretty much every neighbour's home security system because I was usually home while they were gone away for months at a time. Coupled with the fact that my husband also goes away for work, living in the sticks can feel pretty goddamned lonely. I often joked that if I was to choke on popcorn at home alone, even walking outside to be found collapsed in the driveway wouldn't work because I was the only one on my street most of the time.
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| Maybe if I wasn't such a pig about it, I wouldn't choke. |
In this new house, with this new neighbourhood, I go outside and meet people on every walk with the dogs. I can watch planes take off and land from a runway clearly visible from the playground I take my nephews to visit when they're here. I can walk to a convenience store that is actually convenient, not just conveniently named. And I am a 2 minute drive from the gym, a 5 minute drive from my best friend, and so close to amenities that shopping at Costco doesn't instantly make me regret having been born when I need to go there. And on the days when I don't feel up to going out or interacting with people, I have this amazing home to just hole up in and feel at peace knowing that if I happen to choke on popcorn, I have countless neighbours who will see my lifeless body sprawled on the sidewalk with my phone in my hand because, in a neighbourhood with sidewalks, people go outside.
So, where does my lack of exercise and weight loss factor into all of this? Well, it's simple math: (Me + Moving) - Energy = Takeout. More takeout in the past 3 months than I've had in a year of intentionally eating well. Getting settled into a new house takes time and energy. I'm not cooking healthy meals like I normally would. I'm not making time for an actual workout where I break a sweat like I should. Yes, I am walking the dogs more and painting walls/arranging furniture, but I am also eating more sugar and fat because it's easier to open a bag of junk food or go for Chinese food when I'm too lazy to get out of my own way. I haven't been tracking everything I eat like I was, either. It's a shit show of excuses.
Despite the shit show, one of the lessons I have learned through the course of all of this is not to beat myself up for not moving forward. I am doing the best I can with what energy I have, and even if that is holding steady instead of losing weight, I can be happy with that and not hate myself for not doing better. The old me would have already said fuck it and started shoving gluttonous amounts of food in herself for being a failure.
So, now that the kitchen is painted and the house feels like home, it's time to get back on track and start from scratch. I'm still down 45lbs from where I started from scratch last year, and that is no small accomplishment. But I have more work to do, and it has to start somewhere. Why not here?
